


How to soothe the beast

by lost_inhibitions



Series: Darkiplier Drabbles [5]
Category: Darkiplier - Fandom, Youtubers, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Darkiplier Mark Fischbach, M/M, Oops, Post-Who Killed Markiplier?, Rage, demon man is hungry, oh fuck there are actual tags for these things??, the oc was supposed to be gender ambiguous but they became a dude
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-11 02:23:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15305352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lost_inhibitions/pseuds/lost_inhibitions
Summary: Dark's day didn't go so well and he's not too happy about it.





	How to soothe the beast

Expensive dress shoes click down the tiled hall of the condo complex. The place was crowded. Of course it was! It was full of celebrities, high ranking stock brokers and one very dangerous man.

He passes through the halls undisturbed by anyone. This doesn’t mean that no one was in the halls. Of course they were. They just…didn’t interact with him. Going as far as to part like the sea as he comes barreling down the hall. Each step, as gentle as it seems, makes contact with the floor like thunder. Quick and merciless.

He doesn’t say a word. His face set into an eerie calm. Or so it seemed. The color of the surrounding area was stripped. Leaving only traces of blues and reds in his wake. No one could explain the phenomom. All they knew is that it was best to not question it. Not when he was like this.  
  
A fist bangs on a wall and nails drag across the wallpaper. Shredding it. But a look to the man down the hall shows… he hadn’t moved his arms. Keeping them firmly in his pockets. Inside of which twitched like crazy. Then, his door swings open and it slams. And all is quiet.  
  
Inside of his condo, Damien tears his tie from his neck throwing to the ground with a roar.  
  
“THREE HOURS OF PLAYING WITH THEIR RULES AND FOLLOWING THEIR PATHETIC GAMES AND ALL I GET IS A NUMBER!!” He wrenches the scrap of paper from his pocket and throws it as hard as he can. It collides with the wall with a bang.

“I DON’T WANT A NUMBER!! I WANTED A MEAL!! I WANTED BLOOD!! I WANTED A BODY TO QUIVER UNDERNEATH MY HEEL AND ALL I GET IS  _RRRAAAAGH_ ” He breaks into a guttural roar. His form splits into threes. His body contorts once. Twice. Three times.  
  
Then it’s over. He stands, runs a hand through his hair and breathes out. He’s fine. He peals off his suit jacket and drapes it over the chair. With careful hands, he moves to his shirt, unbuttoning each one gingerly.

His hands twitch. Defying his orders. He tenses. Crack. Crack.

The color from his condo continues to drain. Sucking the brown from his floor, the yellow from his picture frames and the purples from his lilacs. A sharp exhale puts him back on mental track.  
  
At least he thought. Behind him a part of him rises up. Following just behind him. The room is sucked dry of colour and everything seems calm.

  
Then the door opens. Damien freezes. His hand on his belt buckle ready to unfurl it. He slowly, calmly, turns around. A small gasp is heard but the door doesn’t slam. He takes a moment to study the figure behind the crack. Their looks…their emotions. Male. Soft hair. Large eyes. Fear. Curiosity. He could work with that.

The eyes flick from Damien’s face, to above him, back to his face, then…they slide down. It then dawns on the demon that he wasn’t as calm as he appeared….no matter.

Crack. Crack.  
He takes a step forward. Slowly. Methodical.  
“Can I help you?”  
A shiver. A sigh. A twinge in the heart. All good signs.  
Fear. The door slams.  
He’ll be back.  
  
And Damien looks down, back to working his fingers to coax the belt out from around him. He breathes in…hm. He hadn’t left yet. He was standing there. Interesting. Damien then feels someone watching him. He smiles. Slow and easy. He meets the gaze of the eye in the peep hole and drops his pants.  
A twinge of confused arousal. His personal favorite taste.  
  
The eye then leaves and sprints down the hall. He’ll definitely be back. 

Maybe today…wasn’t a waste.


End file.
